


Don't Be Such a Child

by Zodiac



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac/pseuds/Zodiac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joshua reminisces on the times, both good and bad, he shared with his old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Be Such a Child

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr dash was filled with angst and I saw a prompt with the same name as the title on the Writeworld blog, so I got inspired to write this.

That phrase was at first uttered to him in a tone of almost fatherly sympathy, soothing words to clash with the angry bruise doing its best to blossom across the fertile landscape of his face.

“Don’t be such a child.” He would croon after yet another flinch away from the peroxide-soaked rag, convinced that his little patient had to be doing it on purpose at this point, but not allowing his bubbling frustrations to well to the surface; not yet anyway. He was indeed aware that the sharp-scented substance stung, yes, but he had explained to the boy in front of him time and again that the pain would give way to healing, it always would.

Finally, after far too much fussing, the blond would allow him to swipe it across the split skin, just long enough for the medicinal liquid to settle into the cut and begin its work. A soft whine would be received in exchange, countered by an equally-light chuckle and a reward for staying still long enough for the job to be done; a cup of coffee or perhaps a spare doughnut, either of which would be devoured over the course of the next few hours of idle chatter.

The gently-spoken sentence was then altered towards one of more affection, towards a playful teasing of friends who have known each other long enough to watch generations grow and die before their eyes.

“Don’t be such a child.” He would taunt after witnessing the ages-old Composer puff up like an enraged cat over something trivial and insignificant for probably about the hundredth time in his unlife. Surely, the one companion he had in the afterlife should have matured after all of the time he had spent existing, but it seemed just the opposite was true, the seeming-teenager sinking ever more into childish behavior the longer he stayed in this world.

So, he had decided, he might as well indulge such behavior.

He would fluff up that blond mop that had not changed very much at all since their very first meeting, letting one of those warm grins of his split his face at the protests he received from such an action. After that, their conversations would degrade into little games of back-and-forth, each trying to one-up the other with fond insults.

Unfortunately, those playful mock insults quickly mutated into something all-too real, venom and vitriol being packed into that familiar tone that he soon grew to miss.

“Don’t be such a child.” He would snarl into his face, cigarette smoke and coffee fumes being delivered straight into his nostrils. Weeks had been spent with such encounters happening between the two of them, traces of any previous affection bleeding from the elder’s voice with every meeting. He was adamant in his decision, they both were, a difference that quickly drove a wedge between the two.

There they would remain for but several moments, frozen in their positions, locked in a hostile staredown. He would gaze into his Composer’s eyes, search for that glint that signified the lust for destruction and, upon finding it every time, he would simply snort, backing down to allow the teen to be free. Rather than stay and chat the afternoon away like he would in the past, he would pry himself loose from whatever surface he had been pressed against, quickly hurrying away from the disapproving, guilt-infusing beast his companion had morphed into seemingly overnight.

Now, however…

Now, nothing of the sort happened. Only unwelcoming, harsh silence blanketed over the solitary Composer of Shibuya, broken only by himself. If only his dear Producer could see him now, he thought, bawling and sniveling like a colicky infant over an event long-past, then perhaps he would hear that beloved, accursed phrase once more leave his lips.

However, he could not, thus, Joshua Kiryu could only sit and wonder why the pain was not giving way to healing like Sanae Hanekoma told him it always would.


End file.
